


Cornucopia

by Pandora (paperclipbutterfly)



Series: Patches and Prongs [3]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: A mixed bag at the end, Alcohol, Angst and Feels, But isn't that how most holidays wind up amirite?, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family puts the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional', Fluff, Friends are family we choose, Gen, Holiday Induced Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, It's the most wonderful time for a beer, Meet the Family, Panic Attacks, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbutterfly/pseuds/Pandora
Summary: In Zootopia, the harvest holiday of Cornucopia is a time for family get-togethers and feasts, as well as an assorted variety of holiday induced anxieties and stressors for many. After a minor disagreement results in a few hard feelings, Vincent invites Melanie to attend the holiday dinner being hosted by his mother. Being part of a big family gathering and meal certainly seems preferable to spending the day alone, but have they both bitten off more than they can chew?
Relationships: Dr. Melanie Leuca (OC) & Dr. Vincent Buckner (OC)
Series: Patches and Prongs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1335736
Comments: 36
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A little holiday story featuring my two doctor OCs. This takes place between the last two chapters of What Happened at N.I.T.E. Mostly, I just wanted the excuse to call Thanksgiving "Cornucopia" because... well, I think it's just clever as hell. XD
> 
> Please enjoy!

The weeks before Cornucopia—when the air started to turn cold in other districts that weren’t Tundratown—many of the city’s inhabitants began bustling about and preparing for big feasts with their loved ones in celebration of the harvests. The holiday in Zootopia was supposed to be a time to spend with family, but for Dr. Melanie Leuca who had no family to spend it with, it was just a reminder of that very particular part of her world that was empty. A reminder that where there should be something, that there was nothing.

Although it was a time meant to rejoice and be thankful for the good fortune that mammals had in their lives, it was also a time of exceptional stress and overwhelming expectations. The normal and the routine transformed into nightmarish situations for those with such mental maladies as seasonal depression, social disorders, or conditions that affected their moods. Stress and anxiety-inducing activities intensified tenfold. For such mammals, the holiday was something to survive rather than something to enjoy.

In Dr. Vincent Buckner’s practice, a surge of appointments and patients hit like clockwork when the leaves in the scattered trees of Downtown began to change color. Aside from the usual pleasantries, he and Dr. Leuca barely had time to speak to one another, the office was so busy. At the end of each day, they were pretty well finished with talking anyhow, and typically left for their respective homes without exchanging much more than a tired “goodnight.”

And then, slowly but surely, the appointments started to become fewer and further between as the holiday approached. When the eve of Cornucopia arrived, the practice was still and quiet once more.

Well… not _so_ quiet.

“…and everyone has their assigned dish to bring, too.” Sadie Catterson, the practice’s office assistant, was saying enthusiastically while she finished up a pile of outgoing mail to drop in the post for pickup. “Like, Aunt Mabel will make this decadent three-tiered cake every year and _I_ always make the stuffing for the bird, because once about four years ago my sister tried to make it and _scorched_ the whole dish—literally, the plate went on fire… oh, remind me to give you the recipe, Melanie, it’s absolutely _delightful_ …”

The bobcat had been recounting what she had planned for the Thursday holiday and following long weekend. All the fun outings and recipes and activities she had meticulously planned for her and her three kittens over their break from work and from school. Melanie basked in the warmth of her words as she leaned over the desk with her elbow set on the desktop and her chin resting in her paw.

“I would love to try it, yes,” she said, and smiled as she handed yet another envelope lazily to Sadie for her to stuff with a solicitation pamphlet.

“Try what?” Vincent stopped at the other side of the front desk and looked up from the rolled back magazine that was in his hoof. His ears quirked in mild interest as he posed the question.

“Sadie tells me all her family’s plans for Cornucopia tomorrow,” Melanie answered, and then straightened up off the counter. “The food and drinks and games…”

“More food,” Sadie added, and they chuckled.

“Hmm, that sounds nice.” Vincent went back to the magazine article.

“It does,” Melanie said almost wistfully as Sadie hopped down off her chair with the stack of envelopes in paw to put over by the front door to mail on their way out. “Very nice to have traditions to look forward to with kin.” She stepped around the desk closer to Vincent. “You do not say yet what you will do for the holiday.”

He looked up again. “I don’t plan to really do anything.”

“Oh?” Her ears popped up with an unpleasant sort of surprise. “Nothing?”

“Catch up on some reading, probably finish that dissertation I’ve been meaning to nail down, odds and ends around the house.”

Melanie blinked. “But… you have much family here in Zootopia, yes? You will not see them at all?”

“I see them on a frequent enough basis as it is,” Vincent said with a sour grimace. “I’d prefer to enjoy my downtime doing something I want to do, not fill it with obligations for a holiday I don’t subscribe to.”

“Cornucopia is an obligation?” Melanie asked, and crossed her arms in annoyed dissent.

“Marking a specific date to expressly set aside time for being thankful just makes mammals put off doing so all along and then try and cram a year’s worth into a few hours. It’s an asinine tradition.”

Melanie frowned. “I think you miss the point. Even if this is true, nothing wrong with a little reminder to be glad for good things in a mammal’s life.”

“As you say,” Vincent said with a non-committal shrug. “I’d still prefer to opt out.”

“Hmph.” Melanie gave him a hard look for a few seconds, and then reached an upturned paw out toward him. “I leave my phone in my office, Vincent. May I see yours?”

He raised his eyebrows, but fished it from his pocket and unlocked it. “What for?”

“Just want to look up something very fast,” she answered vaguely as she took it and started tapping away at the screen. After a minute, she turned it back over to him. “There.”

“‘There’ what?” He stared at his phone, and then narrowed his eyes at Melanie. “What did you do?”

“You will see.” She turned away from him toward the hallway. “I will finish my work and go home. I hope you enjoy your holiday. And you also, Sadie,” she added to the bobcat that had returned somewhere in the middle of their conversation. She walked down the hall, stepped into her office, and closed the door behind her.

Sadie wrinkled her nose at Vincent as she climbed back up into her chair. “You know, I thought shedding that rack for the season would make you _less_ boneheaded. For a mammal with a medical degree, you’re not very bright.”

Vincent snapped his head up from inspecting his phone and flicked his ears. “Now, is that any way to talk to the one who signs your paychecks?”

“I’d say it’s just the right way to talk to a grumpy old _cynic_ like you.”

“Hell of a time to be unemployed,” he countered with a thin scowl that was barely covering up a smirk.

Sadie looked him dead in the eyes. “Do it. I dare you.”

The standoff didn’t last long before the counterfeit grimace dissolved. Vincent chuckled. “Lucky for you I have no desire to make a lady cry at this time of year.”

She snickered. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

“So,” he said, leaning over the desk counter as he tapped his phone against the edge, “what have I been a ‘bonehead’ about this time?”

“You’re being such a wet blanket about Cornucopia, and it’s literally all Melanie has wanted to talk about all day long. She’s been just soaking in every little detail… and you,” Sadie said as she gestured at him with her paw, “go and pour cold water over it all like it’s a ridiculous thing to be in the spirit of the holiday.”

He frowned. “I personally do find it ridiculous. And damaging, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, _bah humbug_ to you, too, then. I don’t see anything wrong with a designated day off work to spend together with my kittens and family I don’t get to see all that often.” Sadie twitched her whiskers and shook her head. “I don’t care what you think, myself, but I’m willing to bet you hurt her feelings. You have the kind of family she wishes she had, and you’ve made the conscious choice to avoid celebrating with them because you don’t want to be bothered. I think you’re lucky you didn’t get bopped on the snout.”

Vincent snorted in annoyance. “I’m not a child to be scolded.”

“I’ll stop scolding you when you stop acting like a child.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake… next time I’ll just keep my plans to myself, then.” He turned toward the hall, clearly done with the conversation. “I’ll be finishing up for a while yet. Just head out when you’re done, whatever time that may be. Have a nice long weekend.”

“I’d clear the air before she leaves,” Sadie called out as he headed down the hall. “Just saying.”

“ _Goodnight_ , Sadie.”

“Goodnight, _sir_.” His door clicked shut. She rolled her eyes and went back to her computer and the open spreadsheets waiting to be updated. “And Happy Cornucopia.”

* * *

Vincent closed the door to his office and lowered himself onto his couch slowly, a genuine scowl now on his face. He swiped and scrolled through his phone for a few minutes, trying to determine what exactly Melanie had done to it. Changed his preferences? Sent a text? Made a purchase? No, no, and no, she’d never tamper with any of those things, even as a joke. Finding nothing obviously different, he eventually gave up and tilted his head back with a grimace at the ceiling.

_It’s just a day. A day like any other day._

No, still couldn’t agree with Sadie. Piling importance on a random date on the calendar only resulted in so much unhappiness and inner turmoil for so many. Why should he participate in something he didn’t believe in?

He opened up his text messages and scrolled down a little to the group text that had been going on the past few weeks between his siblings regarding the Cornucopia dinner that would be hosted at his mother’s house. It was a conversation that they looped Vincent into every year, though he didn’t respond to any of it. Who was coming, bringing whom, making what side dish, arriving when… all information he had ignored out of petty annoyance.

There always had to be something going on. A birthday, a holiday, a graduation, a wedding. Aside from _events_ , when did any of his siblings reach out to him? Practically never. Although, he never did give them much reason to. And his mother…

Vincent switched to his call history and scrolled down further. Off the top of his now antler-less head he couldn’t remember the last time he heard from her, nor called her himself. When he did find the last one, he was shocked. It was a ten second call from nearly a month ago. Was it really that long already?

He huffed and leaned his head back again to stare at the ceiling. _Busy these days, very busy_ , was always the excuse, but the fact was it just never really entered his mind to be the one to reach out. “Phone calls work both ways” was generally how he felt about it. They all obviously knew his phone number; they could call too, couldn’t they?

Vincent turned his thoughts in Melanie’s direction and looked at his call history again. Many were from or to her, he realized. He wondered briefly what hers looked like. His contact was certainly there often, obviously, probably patients, but… who else? It didn’t seem to bother her usually, but he supposed that at a time of the year when many things centered around family it might get lonesome. Even though he usually found his relatives dizzying to keep up with and chose to limit interactions with them accordingly, for the most part he’d still rather have them in his life.

He sighed to himself. He still did consider it a silly tradition, and he’d have preferred to reach out _after_ it was over just to make a point, but… well, he did want to spend Cornucopia doing something that he would feel good doing. Nothing that he had originally planned would fit that bill now, but there was one thing he thought of that might.

Vincent hit speed dial and waited through the electronic ringing sound in the earpiece until it picked up.

<Hello?>

“Hello, Mother. It’s—”

< _Vincent_!> He pulled the phone away from his ear to mitigate her loud exclamation. <Well, this is a surprise! How nice to hear from you! How are things?>

He brought the phone back. “Fine, just fine… busy, as always.”

<Oh, yes, yes, of course. I know it has been an especially hard year.>

“Yes, hard… but rewarding, nonetheless.” He paused. “I understand you’re still planning to host Cornucopia dinner?”

<I am, yes. I called about it a few weeks ago, but you were… well, busy. I didn’t want to trouble you.>

“I, ah…” _Now_ he remembered it, the call that came right at the end of one of those dragging, energy-draining days, the very short ‘I’ll call you later’ that he never did quite get around to. God, this felt awful, why did he start this conversation again? “I apologize that I didn’t get back with you. Time… got away from me, I suppose.” He paused again. “I realize it’s short notice, but I wonder if I could join you for dinner tomorrow after all.”

<Oh, Vincent… of course. That would… really be wonderful.> She gave a short, light laugh. <It’s been so long since I’ve had the whole herd home for a meal.>

Vincent returned a forced laugh of his own. “It has been some time, hasn’t it? Well, good, then. I look forward to it.”

<Me too, dear.>

He turned his next words over and over his tongue until they were scalding hot. “Could I ask one last thing?”

<Of course.>

“If it’s not too much trouble for you, would it be all right if I brought a friend?”

* * *

Melanie had just shut down her computer for the night and gathered up her bag when there came a light tapping at her door. She turned around just as Vincent cracked it open and popped his head around the doorjamb.

“Knock, knock,” he said, and opened the door a little wider. “May I come in?”

She gave a huff and turned her nose up and away from him. “I will not tell you, so do not ask. You will have to wait and find out yourself.”

“Curious as I am, that’s not why I’m here.” He stepped in through the doorway despite the lack of invitation, and thrust his hooves in his pockets. “It occurs to me that I may have been a bit insensitive toward your opinion of this holiday and I want to apologize for that.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You apologize for different of opinion?”

“Not really, no,” Vincent admitted. “That is, I don’t consider my opinion invalid, but I still wasn’t terribly considerate regarding yours so if I made you feel bad, then that is something I’m sorry for.”

“Oh.” Melanie shifted her feet and stared down at the jacket draped over her paws. “Thank you. I appreciate you say so. I think probably I am just being little dramatic. It is not bad thing to prefer solitude. Wish I would feel that way for tomorrow since also I will be spending time just with me.”

Vincent flicked an ear. “Then you don’t have anything planned.”

“No, I do not.”

“But that’s not how you want it.”

Melanie gave a short, sharp sigh. “I just say this, no? I will be more clear. If I had the choice, I would not choose to be alone this holiday.” Impatience began to pull at her muzzle and she made a conscious effort to relax her face before she continued. “But it is juvenile, to be bitter you can be content by yourself just because I do not. So, I am sorry, also. How you spend your time off is not business of mine. You do what you like.”

“I intend to,” he said, “but what I’d like to do has, mmm… _changed_ a little bit since we spoke earlier.”

Her ears perked with interest. “How so?”

“My mother hosts Cornucopia dinner every year. There’s always more than enough food to feed… well, a small herd. If you’re interested, I asked if I could bring a guest.” Vincent adjusted his tie absently. “No obligation, of course. But it’s a big family to brave alone, so it would be nice to have some company.”

Melanie gave him a blank stare for a few seconds and then pinned her ears back timidly. “You do not have to do this, Vincent.”

“I realize that.”

“Then why do you?”

“Well, you have no family here to celebrate with, and I happen to have an overabundance. Seemed sensible to share.” A gentle smile played across his face as he tilted his head to the side. “So? What do you think?”

Although she was standing perfectly still, every single part of her—all the way down to each individual strand of fur—was quivering with excitement. The chance to experience a big family holiday, a day filled with food and games and all those warm feelings of contentment and togetherness? What did she _think_?

She smiled, as well. “I think that will be lovely.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Siblings._ Am I right? XD

Melanie looked up at the face of the stately house that she and Vincent were waiting in front of. The meticulously manicured lawn and landscaping was dusted with perfect layers of snow, like they had been frosted with a palate knife. Heated walkways ensured a clear path to the steps and clean front stoop. The roof had pitched peaks covered in white, with the shining icicles hanging from the eaves and gutters.

She cast an uncertain sidelong glance at Vincent by her side as he reached up to give the brass door knocker a few sharp raps. Typical for a tundra mammal, he didn’t sport a coat or any real cold weather clothes since he didn’t need them. He opted instead for a slightly modified version of his normal work outfit, a tan sweater vest over a crisp, dark collared shirt and light tie with khaki pants. He also wore a fedora today for some reason. Melanie was still on the fence about whether she liked the look or not, but considering that he was without antlers for the season she supposed it was probably making up for that.

Melanie looked down at herself, her simple peacoat and one of her warmer colored skirts. Her shirt was new and a little festive, with a leafy print on it. She readjusted her bag between her paws and shifted her feet with a sigh.

“I am underdressed.”

“You look fine.” He gave her a glance from the corner of his eye with a smile. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to impress anyone.”

Just then the door swung inward. Standing in the entrance was a graceful, elderly, white female reindeer. She must have been blonde in her youth, if the golden highlights in her fur were any indication. The modest, chocolate hued rack of antlers on her head matched the color of the long, floor length dress and scarf that she wore around her neck. Melanie knew at once who this must be; her eyes were the exact same shade of blue as…

“Vincent!” she said cheerfully and threw her arms around her son in a hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.”

He gave a patient kind of smile as he returned the enthusiastic embrace with a more subdued one of his own, narrowly avoiding the face full of antlers. She was only a little taller than Melanie, and the top of her head just came up to his shoulders.

“Hello, Mother,” Vincent said warmly as they parted again. He removed his hat as he put a hoof gently on Melanie’s shoulder. “Melanie, this is my mom, Nora. Mother, I told you about Melanie when we spoke.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Nora took Melanie’s paw between her hooves with a gentle squeeze. “Come in, come in. It’s so good to meet you, dear. I’m glad you’ll be joining us.”

“Very much my pleasure,” Melanie replied as she was pulled into the front foyer. It was all she could manage in response before her breath caught in her throat.

The inside was just as beautiful as the outside. High, brightly lit ceilings made her feel very small but still somehow warm and welcomed. A wide staircase ran from the foyer to the upper floor and the many rooms there, judging by the number of windows in the front. A boisterous, joyful _noise_ buzzed throughout—the mingling voices of gathered family.

To the right was the dining room, a long table already set with the numerous place settings that were needed for Cornucopia dinner. The Horn of Plenty was set on it and overflowing with raw fruits and vegetables, a very colorful and fairly common centerpiece for the holiday. A couple of young calves were in the middle of a not-so- stealthy caper, picking small bits off to pop in their mouths and then darting off in a fit of giggles. Melanie smiled; it felt like her heart was swelling in her chest.

“Let me take your things to the coat closet,” Nora said as Melanie unfastened the buttons and shrugged her peacoat off. She took both the jacket and bag firmly in her hooves even as Melanie protested. “Nonsense, now. You just get settled in and let my son introduce you to everyone.” She took two brisk steps away and paused. “You come find me in the kitchen after you’ve made the rounds, Vincent. There’s something I hope you might help me with.”

He tipped his hat at her retreating figure and removed it completely as she wove in between other reindeer at the end of the hallway and was gone from their sight.

To the immediate left of the entrance was a nice sitting room that looked opulent and staged; a wooden, carved coffee table was set in front of a fancy camelback sofa that seemed too uncomfortable to actually sit on. The one part that did look well-used was a high, well-stocked home bar in the corner. A portly reindeer bull stood before it with a recently filled highball glass in hoof. He turned to see who had entered the house, and his face lit up into a big grin.

“Vince!” he said, and threw out his hoof that didn’t have the drink in it. He made a beeline straight for the front door and clapped Vincent roughly on the shoulder when he reached them. “Didn’t realize you’d be making an appearance.”

“Yes, well, I had a last-minute change of plans,” Vincent said stiffly and moved himself out from under the hoof on his shoulder by turning into introductions. “Melanie, this is my younger brother, James. Jim, this is Melanie Leuca, a friend of mine from work.”

“Ah, good, some fresh blood. Keep things interesting this year. Unless,” he added as his face tightened into an exaggerated serious expression, “you’re as stuffy as my brother here.”

Melanie twitched an ear at the tone that bordered on mockery, but smiled very sweetly as she patted her middle. “He is stuffy? Cannot be right. We both make sure to come hungry, so to be stuffed with dinner, yes?”

James laughed. “Ha, ha, clever girl! You’ll do nicely.” He took a swig of his drink. “A wonder you still have a personality working with Vince. He’s been known to lobotomize mammals with his presence alone.”

“Much as I’m enjoying the indirect compliments,” Vincent chimed in irately, “it’s about time we actually leave the foyer and acquaint Melanie with the rest of the herd, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Right, right, of course. But first things first.” James wrapped his arm around her shoulder and steered her in the direction of the nice sitting room as he continued, “Now, this is very important. No wrong answers, but I need you to think carefully and answer a question for me with complete honesty.”

She tilted her head. “Which is?”

He held the highball glass out to her. “What’s your poison?”

Vincent’s hoof curved around from behind Melanie and firmly pushed it away. “She doesn’t drink.”

“Well, that’s horribly dull,” James said with a sour face and gestured at Vincent with it instead. “What about you, then? What can I pour you?”

“Nothing, thank you. I’m driving.”

“Hours from now!” his brother insisted. “Come on, loosen up a little for once.”

“I said no.” He tipped his nose down with a glare over his glasses, a gesture that would have aimed his antlers at the mammal across if he still had them. “Don’t ask again.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” James gave a gruff snort and turned back toward the doorway. He muttered, “Game’s about to start,” as he strode on through and out of sight.

The little sitting room was steeped in an uncomfortable quiet following his departure, with just the muted drone of interlocking conversations from the rest of the house seeping in. Melanie pinned her ears and shuffled her feet awkwardly; she didn’t necessarily feel that she’d done something wrong, but nevertheless seemed to be the reason for the small squabble she’d just witnessed.

“Vincent, you do not need to abstain with me,” she said softly as she looked aside at the bar. “If you want to have a—”

“I really don’t.”

Melanie studied his neutral mask carefully turned away from her, and her expression hardened. “Something is wrong. Why you are being like this?”

Vincent dropped his ears and grimaced. This wasn’t a conversation to have today, with her, here. How to explain that just the smell enticed him to dull the sharp buzzing that flared up in his brain from incidents exactly like this? That the court case he was still embroiled in had him wading in far deeper than usual and far more often? That there would be no moderation after the first drop touched his tongue… and that he dreaded the kind of disappointment he might see in her face if that was how he spent this visit?

“I just want to be able to drive you home,” he answered eventually, and worried the knot of his tie between his hooves. “If I start now, in this house, I give up the guarantee I can do that. It gets… _difficult_ … to stop. With them.”

“Oh.” She turned her nose down to look at her paws as she asked, “Is this reason you want to not come?”

“Probably part of it, if I’m honest.” He sighed and dropped his hooves to his pockets. “I don’t really care to elaborate, Mel. I realize I’m being hypocritical. It’ll just be easier not to have any tonight, is all.”

He waited for more questions; it was the kind of response he expected from such an obvious non-answer as he’d just managed to give. When none came, he dared a glance at her. Melanie just gave a small smile as she met his eyes.

“Okay,” she said, and started toward the door that led further into the house. She glanced back at him with a little wave behind her. “Come. Let us greet the rest of your family. I hear so many voices and cannot wait to meet them.”

Vincent didn’t realize the tension that had built up in his back until that moment. He let his shoulders relax and his ears perk as he picked up his feet to follow.

“I hope you’ve prepared yourself,” he teased. “There are a lot of names to remember. I wonder if even your ears will be able to keep them all straight.”

“A challenge?” She grinned. “I am more than ready.”

He laughed. “We’ll just see about that.”

* * *

Introductions around the house came in a dizzying whirlwind. Vincent was the oldest of four siblings, his brother Jim being the youngest. In between them were his two sisters Candace and Camille. His brother and sisters all had spouses and calves running throughout the house (the newest addition to the family was a four-month-old Jim’s wife Brenda was nursing in the corner by the big-screen TV).

Cousins and nieces and nephews followed. The children were shy to say hello directly, but started to follow behind Melanie and Vincent as they made their way around to the rest of the adults. He laughed hard during a lull in conversation with Camille, and they both looked up at him inquiringly.

He nodded behind Melanie. “Don’t look now, but it would seem you’ve amassed a small entourage.”

She gave a subtle glance behind herself at the little spectacle of five calves, all somewhere between the ages of four and nine, standing together in a group some few paces away. They stared with shameless, wide-eyed curiosity at the very different mammal standing in their midst.

“Aww, isn’t that just too precious?” Camille cooed. She gestured at the couch frantically. “Jim, Jim… get a picture of this, will you?”

“Kinda busy here,” he said, eyes not leaving the television as he tipped his glass in her general direction. He jerked forward and his drink sloshed dangerously as he yelled at the TV, “OH COME ON REF, ARE YOU BLIND??”

She rolled her eyes and muttered, “Lazy bull,” then added, “Don’t move. I’m getting my phone.”

Camille hurried away to attempt to capture the adorable scene, and Melanie turned herself about a little more for a better look at the children. One of the older girls (introduced as Tamara just a little earlier) rubbed at her face just under her eye, and Melanie felt compelled to do the same as she looked up at Vincent with uncertainty.

He whispered just beside her ear, “They think you dyed your fur.”

She stifled a laugh behind her paw and then stooped down with a kind smile at Tamara.

“Hello again.” Melanie gave a little wave as she sat back on her heels. “You look like you have question to ask.”

Tamara chewed on her hoof as she took a tentative step forward, then tucked it behind her back as she asked, “Did you get ink on you?”

“Ink?”

“Suzie Polarov got ink in her fur and had a black spot on her head for picture day.” She rubbed her forehead, an indication of just where the spot she mentioned had been. “Did you get ink on you, too?”

“No, these are my colors I have since I am born.” She flexed her fingers in a beckoning gesture and then held out her arm. “You can see closer if you want.”

Her invitation was apparently extended to the rest of the calves also, and they crowded giggling around Melanie as they pulled at the fur on her arms and poked around the black markings on her face. She was patient with them, but they were not at all gentle, and after the second wince she gave Vincent decided that was more than enough.

“Alright, that’s enough prodding, you scamps,” he said, and nudged two of the closest ones with his leg. “Off with you now. Shoo!”

A threatening stomp of his foot on the floor made the children scatter away with pretend alarmed laughter. Melanie shot him an annoyed look and rose to her feet.

“They were fine, Vincent,” she said with a huff. “Why you drive them away?”

“Because they were becoming unruly. Calves at their age are very physical and need boundaries set. They’re stronger than they look.”

Melanie puffed her cheeks and muttered, “I am strong.”

“Yes, but you’re outnumbered. You also know to exercise restraint, which—” He threw a heated sideways glance at the couch across the room and the rowdy adults seated on it. “—I’m willing to bet they haven’t been introduced to yet.”

“They are fine,” she insisted again, and pulled her sleeves back down around her wrists. “Must you nick-pit at your kin?”

His nostrils flared. “I’m not _nit-picking._ I’m trying to keep my relatives from taking advantage of your kindness.”

Melanie opened her wrinkled muzzle to say something that appeared would be unpleasant, but it never quite made it off her tongue. Instead, she took a deep breath, sighed, and dropped her voice lower. “I do not care to be monitored like also I am a child.”

Vincent’s ears drooped and he cast a sidelong gaze at his siblings across the room. It wouldn’t have been an unusual reaction for him. He could think back to multiple occasions in this house—days that were far in the past at this point—when trying to rein in his much younger siblings was tantamount to his own enjoyment. But he was no one’s keeper now, least of all hers. He turned his stare down to the floor between his feet.

“Call it a bad habit, I suppose. Attempting to wrangle my family. It’s a strange thing, you know. I haven’t lived in this house for many years, and yet here I am falling back into position as eldest son again like I never left.” He sighed. “And I’m not trying to monitor you, I’m just… I guess I consider myself _responsible_ for your time here. I do want it to be pleasant.”

“And what about your time? Can it not be pleasant, also?” Melanie rested her paw lightly on his arm for a moment before she drew it back. “Maybe stop looking to find faults. Find instead something you will like to celebrate.”

Vincent was about to say that he’d celebrate getting through this visit without incident when Camille returned. She brandished her phone enthusiastically with one hoof while holding a glass of wine in the other.

“Sorry to say they’ve all run off, Cami.” He ignored the stink eye Melanie shot at him as his sister came up to them. “You missed your window of opportunity.”

“Oh, _shoot_.” She scrunched her nose and scuffed her foot against the floor in annoyance. “Well, serves me right for leaving my phone in my bag. Won’t make that mistake again.” She tucked her phone away in her pocket, then reached up and smoothed the longer fur around her antlers as she added, “By the way, Mom asked for you in the kitchen. Don’t know what for. Sounded serious.”

“Ah, that’s right. I completely forgot.” Vincent glanced behind himself at the kitchen, then back at Melanie. “Something I can get you while I’m in there, Mel? Juice, water, tea…?”

She shook her head. “Thank you, no. I keep all my room for dinner.”

“Alright then. I’ll be right back.”

Melanie watched after him briefly as he left in the direction of the kitchen. She set herself in one of the chairs against the wall to observe the rest of the mammals in the living room. The sporting event that they were watching on the television wasn’t one that she was familiar with, and she distracted herself with attempting to understand what was happening and why for a little time. It didn’t hold her attention for long, as the calves reappeared from wherever they had run off to, dashing about here and there. She smiled. They were a joy to be near, these bubbly little bundles of positive energy.

Of course, it stood to reason that such uncontained exuberance in such an enclosed space was bound to end up where it oughtn’t be at least once or twice. They must have been playing a game of chase through the rooms. When one of the younger boys didn’t brake fast enough, he collided with the low coffee table in front of the couch, toppling all of the drinks on it, including Jim’s half-filled highball glass.

“Ah, damn it all, Isaac!” He sprung up from his seat as its contents splashed onto his feet and pant legs. The calves froze in place as he gestured at them angrily. “What have we said about running inside? Go on and get out of here, all of you! You should be downstairs in the rec room, not up here making a mess.”

The little boy cowered and whined, “But Daaaaaaaaad, it smells _weird_ down there.”

“You’re being _rude_ to your grandmother. She prepared that whole area for you kids to play with your toys and games, you know…”

He went on scolding for only a little longer, and at the end the calves tromped away dejectedly. Melanie frowned. Children could certainly be difficult to reason with at times, but she didn’t like seeing their discomfort dismissed outright either. If they needed to burn some energy off, keeping inside was just a recipe for another disaster. Her eyes wandered to the long windows behind the couch and the soft light filtering in from outside. She perked her ears at the idea that sprung up between them. A simple option, if their parents weren’t opposed to it.

Melanie came alongside the couch where James was mopping up the last of the spilled drinks. He noticed her as he stuffed the saturated paper towels into the glass.

“Kids, eh?” He indicated the table and forced a smile. “Tiny little tornadoes.”

She smiled back, though it was a more genuine one. “They do seem to have much energy yet.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

Melanie cast a glance down at her paws and tugged her ear absently. “Maybe I ask an opinion of possible solution you may find acceptable…”

* * *

Nora’s kitchen was spacious and bright. Stainless steel appliances shined under the recessed lighting in the ceiling, and sliding glass doors that opened to a deck overlooking the backyard added additional natural light to the room, as well. Tasteful tchotchkes like antique jars and vases were set atop the high, birch wood cabinets to give the space a homey feel. The closet doors beside the refrigerator were wide open, revealing a well-stocked (maybe overstocked) pantry. Several decorative platters were already set out on the island countertop to receive their designated cuisine. It was a room well-organized, well-used, and well-tended.

The many wafting scents of the feast in progress hit Vincent with intense nostalgia as he approached their source. Familiar aromas called a thousand memories up from the dusty corners of his mind. The sweet, the savory, the earthy, the robust, and… something else, something subtle… something sharp, piercing…

“Ah, there you are.”

Nora beckoned with a hoof at him from the sink. The tap was running and she was struggling to keep a bundle of greenery together on the granite countertop. Thick, round stalks that wanted to roll onto the floor. Vincent hurried forward just in time to catch one before it fell.

He stared at it. “Mother, did you buy _bamboo_?”

“Yes,” she replied simply and looked at the stalks again with annoyance. “I bought it yesterday after we spoke, and I tried to look up how to prepare it but everything I read just made me afraid I was going to poison someone if I got it wrong, so I just… put these in the fridge and hoped you knew more about it than I did.”

He set the stalk he held back with the rest carefully. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t put something on my table that girl can actually eat?”

“Melanie’s diet is actually a bit more, ah… eclectic than you’d think. I think that she was looking forward to sampling the more traditional dishes.” Vincent added quickly, “But I know she’ll be pleased to have a little of this to go with her meal. As far as I’m aware, it doesn’t need any cooking; she always just eats it raw. It does make a bit of a mess, though. Here… we can cut the husks off at least, make it easier. If you just get the cleaver for me…”

Between the two of them they made short work of the bundle, splitting the thick stalks and plucking out the soft hearts within. At the end, the five-pounds of bamboo yielded just a small bowl’s worth of edible vegetable pieces.

“That’s it? After all that?” Nora looked down at the bowl, deep worry lines creasing her forehead. She sighed and picked it up. “I’ll just put it at her place setting, then. Whatever she cares to eat is fine, of course, just… I was nervous I wouldn’t have anything suitable.”

Vincent smiled. “It’s a fine side. She’ll appreciate your effort, I’m sure.”

A rumbling sound started to roll toward the kitchen area, and it was immediately given context when the small herd of calves stampeded through straight toward the sliding glass door to the backyard. They piled up giggling and jostling each other as they slid it open and then burst through to the outside. Melanie pulled up the rear, calmly donning her coat as she walked. Vincent made it to the door in two long strides to meet her there.

He blocked the opening with his arm and asked pointedly, “What’s all this?”

She stopped and finished buttoning her coat before she answered. “I take the children outside for some playtime before dinner.”

“ _Why?_ ”

Melanie met his eyes and her expression hardened in preparation for the argument she saw looming. “Spend extra energy, work up appetites for good eating, make quiet time inside for adults—”

“I knew it,” Vincent said with an irate huff. “Who roped you into this?”

She tilted her nose up at him. “No one. I ask them.”

“It’s a _holiday_. You’re a _guest_. Why are you giving yourself a job to do?”

“Are you not, also?” She indicated the cleaver that was pointed down at his side.

Somewhere behind Vincent his mother gave a short laugh. She had moved to sit at the island counter and was relishing the interaction with a smirk on her face. He threw a cross look over his shoulder.

“Don’t encourage her.”

“And why not? She’s not wrong.” Nora shrugged. “It would be a big help, and I think it’s a lovely idea.”

Vincent’s irritated expression shifted over to surprise, and he turned back to Melanie looking past him with a small, grateful smile. When she regarded him again, it changed subtly to one of smug satisfaction. He sighed.

“You don’t have to babysit their kids for them,” he insisted, though it didn’t seem that he was in a position to win this argument now that Melanie perceived she had support nearby.

“Will be more enjoyable for me to be useful, and I prefer it. Besides,” she added, and nudged his arm out of her way, “will get dark soon, so can only be for little while. You can manage yourself for little while, yes?”

Melanie was already in motion and stepping out onto the porch. Resigned, he placed his hoof on the door handle instead and said, “Have your fun, then.”

“I will.”

Vincent closed the door; the house became noticeably quieter with the youngsters’ roughhousing removed from it. He watched after her slowly departing figure for a few moments. Her steps through the snow were slow and deliberate as she headed out to where the small gaggle of calves were already leaping and butting heads with each other in play. He sighed and turned back to the kitchen.

“Isn’t she just delightful?” Nora gave a shrewd smile as Vincent put the cleaver down and set himself on one of the stools at the island counter, also.

He rubbed his temple. “Not the word I would use.”

“Oh? And what word would you use instead?”

“In polite company I’ll refrain.” He gave a long look at the exterior wall, as though he could see through it to the backyard. “I suppose that’s all well and good, though. The concept of play isn’t exactly something she’s had much of in her life so maybe this will be a pleasant experience after all.”

Nora chuckled. “Must you always psychoanalyze everything, Vincent?”

“Call it an occupational hazard.” He stopped staring at the wall and returned his eyes to his mother’s face instead. “I get my fair share of it from her, so a little turnabout is fair play.”

“Well, imagine that.” She tilted her head, amusement crinkling the corners of her eyes. “You’ve somehow managed to befriend a mammal who’s as hard-headed as you are. What are the chances?”

“Infinitesimal.” He set his arms on the counter and leaned over them. “I’m sure someone up there is having a good laugh at my expense.” When the pause that followed lasted a beat too long, he turned his attention back to his mother and the odd expression she was giving him. “What’s that look for?”

Nora waved her hoof dismissively. “Oh, nothing.” Vincent narrowed his eyes, and she said, “I know you’re particular about the company you keep… so particular you’ve barely kept any for years. Not since that ugly business out in Deerpark—”

“Your point, Mother, if you don’t mind.”

She stiffened briefly at the sharp tone, but returned it in stride. “It was a nice _surprise_ , is my point. All I hear you talk about of late has been your work—”

“I _like_ my work,” Vincent muttered sullenly.

“—and now this awful court case.” Nora sighed and shook her head. “I can’t imagine it doesn’t wear on you, Vincent. I wish I knew how to help you with these things… not that you’d let me if I did. Melanie seems thoughtful and clearly doesn’t put up with your grumping, so I imagine she’s able to get you out of your own head on occasion. You need more of that, so I’m glad if she helps you find it here and there. I think it can only do you some good.”

His ears flagged at the unwelcome shift in the conversation. He was thankfully saved from continuing it any further when a timer on the stove began ringing in earnest. Nora spun with a soft bleat of surprise and turned her attention back to the feast once more. Vincent took the opportunity to get up himself and take a quick look outside. From the sliding glass door all seemed well, with the calves and Melanie chasing each other around. The faint sounds filtering in from outside sounded cheerful enough. If she was enjoying herself, that was all that really mattered, wasn’t it?

“I suppose I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said as he turned away. He paused. “Unless you needed anything else?”

“Not at the moment, thank you.” Nora lifted her head up from the pot she was stirring with a smile. “Go on and try to unwind a little with the others. Pretend you’re having a good time. Who knows? Maybe you’ll actually start to.”

Vincent snapped his head around with an annoyed grimace, a sharp retort pricking at his tongue, but Nora had already returned to her cooking. He strode purposely out of the kitchen and back to the living room. Conversations were in high spirits—mostly due to the presence of a very particular sort of ‘spirits’—and despite the lack of children present, the atmosphere remained lively. Exuberant, even. Very different from the types of interactions that he engaged in these days, which were typically more subdued. And devoid of mutual reminiscing. About things and mammals and events that he had no desire to revisit.

He took a deep breath, and picked a spot on the couch. In his mother’s house he’d attempt to do as he was told… however unpleasant a task that might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things remain constants whether we want them to be or not.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying this little slice of life story with these two dopes... I know I am. XD Any questions, concerns, queries, or conundrums, you know what to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family is complicated.
> 
> Long overdue, but done at last. Please enjoy.

It wasn’t a poorly spent or terribly uncomfortable half an hour, all things considered. He met his newest nephew, caught up with his cousins. Jim’s oldest won a spelling bee, Camille’s youngest was _finally_ toilet trained. Far more oversharing and aggrandizing than he would have preferred, of course, but still… pleasant enough. It was about time to move on when Nora appeared in the doorway to the living room and clanged a spoon against the frame.

“Dinner will be on the table in twenty minutes,” she announced, and then pointed the spoon at the room in reproach. “You all better have kept some room free!”

Drink glasses and snack plates were tucked behind backs and couch arms as they all nodded their vigorous yeses.

She smiled brightly. “That’s what I thought.” Her eyes landed on Vincent, and she added, “Would you go tell Melanie and the children to finish whatever game they’re playing and come inside? They’ll all probably need a turn in the standing dryer before we sit down, I imagine.”

Vincent nodded. He took his leave of the little newborn and his sister-in-law, then headed in through the kitchen and out the back door.

The porch hadn’t been entirely cleared, and he sank down ankle deep in the crisp, frozen snow. He rolled his pant legs up just clear of the powder, then trudged down the porch steps and out into the backyard. The yard was wide open and flat, the only feature of any note being a somewhat derelict glass greenhouse in the far corner by the post-and-rail fence. With rusting eaves and a few broken window panes, it was a bit of an eyesore now in the otherwise well-kempt grounds.

Vincent didn’t have to trek out quite so far as that, though. The calves were all keeping to the center of the yard, laughing and leaping around Melanie. She’d taken to all fours and ran to and fro, making to catch one calf but purposely missing, then turning to grab for another in the same way. A few of them decided on next lunge not to bolt away, but instead wrapped their arms around her in a kind of tackle-embrace. She fell back with an exaggerated cry of “Mercy! Oh no, I will be crushed!” and the others dogpiled on as well as they all gave loud whooping laughs at their victory.

“Reinforcements have arrived!” Vincent said, his voice booming out over the great open space.

The calves all gave delighted squeals of fake fear, scrambled off of Melanie, and scattered away from his approach. He looked down at her laying in the snow, arms spread wide, chest heaving, and the most overjoyed expression on her face. He couldn’t help but smile himself.

“Having a good time?”

She closed her eyes and grinned even wider. “Very much, yes.”

He leaned down and offered his hoof. “You really are letting them be too rough with you, though,” he told her as he pulled her to her feet.

“Oh, you are spoiling the sport, Vincent,” Melanie scolded him playfully. She swept some of the snow off of her coat. “Go back inside if you will not be fun.”

“Alright, alright.” He waved at her in general dismissal. “I just came out to let you know that dinner will be on the table in a little under twenty minutes. Everyone needs to dry off before then so start to wind it down and head back in.”

“Do you hear this, children? Last one!” she called, and went down on all fours again as she started away from him and toward the tittering youngsters waiting just a few paces away for the game to begin again. “Roar! I will catch you! Roooaaaar!”

More joyful giggles as the calves all darted away from her bounding run through the snow after them. Vincent shook his head with a little chuckle to himself and turned to head back into the house. Nora met him at the door as he came inside.

“Last round,” he said, and wiped his feet on the mat. “She’ll herd them back in just a few minutes.”

“Oh, wonderful.” She clapped her hooves together and returned to the stove. “That worked out nicely, didn’t it?”

 _Better than I thought it might_ , Vincent thought and started to follow after her when…

_SHRIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEK!_

The first initial reaction—instinctual, so hard to override—was to freeze. For the space of a few thunderous heartbeats, the house was dead silent but for the sound of some overacted commercial on the television. They all heard it, but only one of them could recognize the source.

Nora blinked out of the gripping panic and clutched at her chest. “What in the world was…?”

Vincent was already back out the door again; he didn’t even close it behind him. From the sound, he was half expecting to find something broken, something dislocated, something bleeding. What he arrived to was, in some ways, almost worse.

The calves were huddled together around Tamara, who was shushing them and telling them that everything would be just fine on repeat, a reassurance as much for herself as for the others. Not far away, Melanie was hunched over in the snow, batting at her head with her paw. Her other arm she hugged around herself tightly to try and soothe her trembling body. Breaths came harsh and heavy through her clenched teeth.

Despite their nervous faces, Vincent towered over the kids with exactly zero compassion. “What happened here?”

They all looked at each other and then away guiltily. Eventually, Tamara said, “Isaac bit her.”

“ _Bit_ her?” he repeated as anger flared and turned his words white hot on his tongue. Behind him he heard Melanie whimper. He glanced at her, softened his tone, and asked, “ _Where_?”

“Ear,” she replied, and reached up to tug on one of her own.

 _Of course._ Vincent rubbed his temple in aggravation. A low snort escaped his snout and he cast a hard glare at the children.

“Playtime is over.” He pointed at the house. “Get inside, all of you.”

None of them said anything in response to his command. They turned, ran off immediately back to the porch, and piled in through the open sliding glass door. He waited until it closed shut before he walked the few steps over to where Melanie knelt in the snow. She was breathing normally again, but staring straight off into space.

Vincent crouched beside her and sat back on his heels. “Hi, Mel. I’m here.”

She twisted the soggy hem of her coat between her paws. “Yes, I know.”

“You’re safe.”

She frowned. “Yes, I know this, too.”

He paused and folded his arms over his knees. “Do you want to talk it through with me?”

Shining tears began to pool at the corners of her eyes. “I am sorry, Vincent… I scare the children.”

“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I think I show my teeth to them. They will be afraid of me.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I did not mean to. I was surprised.”

“Not surprised,” he told her gently. “Shocked. Triggered. Call it what it is. It wasn’t your fault.”

“What is called does not matter. Still ruins something nice.” She pawed at her ear again and looked down at her palm as though she expected it to be bloody. Her clenched fist joined the other one in her lap. “It is frustrating.”

Vincent pressed his lips together, then asked, “Do you want to go home? It’s okay if you do.”

She turned her sight inward as her ears twitched with uncertainty. In the end, Melanie shook her head. “No… no, I think I would feel worse.” She gave him a strangled, appreciative smile for a moment before waving him away. “Please go inside. I want to be alone for little bit.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I will come in few minutes.”

He sighed and stood up. “Alright. I’d say take your time, but it’s very cold out here. Don’t make yourself sick.”

“Few minutes,” she repeated. “Promise.”

“I’ll be holding you to that.”

She nodded, and Vincent turned to retrace his path back through the line of packed snow to the porch and the sliding glass door. He opened it and slipped quickly inside to the raucous row that he anticipated he might walk in on. He stamped his feet on the mat, and strode with stiff steps through the doorway between the kitchen and the living room where his relatives were waiting to all but pounce on him.

If he was to be thankful about anything today, at that moment he was monumentally thankful that Melanie stayed behind outside. The children were all clinging to the legs of their respective parents. Jim stepped forward as soon as Vincent crossed the threshold and gestured at him with incensed hooves, an infuriated expression on his face.

“What the _hell_ , Vince?”

“I could say the same thing to you, Jim.” His voice remained calm despite the anger roiling inside. He rolled his shoulders and raised his head back, meeting his brother’s glare with one of his own. “However, as you asked first, I’ll humor the question. It would appear that a game of tag got out of hoof.”

“Out of _hoof_?” Jim dropped his arm to Isaac at his side and tightened his grip on his shoulder. “She bared her teeth at him!”

“After he _laid_ his teeth on her.” His brother’s expression flew from indignation to surprise, and then right back to indignation as he cast his glare down at his son. The youngster shrank beneath it and he drew back out of the ring of adults as Vincent rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised that information was conveniently left out of the retelling?”

Jim pushed a frustrated breath through his teeth and scratched at the back of his head. For the briefest moment he came close to looking abashed, then redoubled his irritation. “He’s just a child.”

“He’s old enough to know not to bite other mammals.” Vincent’s voice picked up an undertone of challenge, and he tipped his head forward to make his position even clearer. “Or is that a lesson you haven’t had the time to teach him?”

His brother mirrored the gesture. “Don’t tell me how to parent my kid.”

“As soon as you actually start doing it.”

Murmurs passed around the circle. The other parents ushered their youngsters away as the exchange became even more heated, and backed up from the two males in apprehension. Jim huffed and threw his hooves up.

“This is ridiculous. So what if he did, then, huh? He couldn’t possibly hurt her. She overreacted to nothing.” Jim turned his hoof around and around beside his temple. “Is she touched in the head or something?”

The challenge lost all subtlety. In a single heavy stride Vincent bore down on his brother, who cringed beneath the aggressive movement at once. The murmurs from the rest of the circle ceased.

“Say that to me again.” A low grunt accompanied the ultimatum. “See what happens.”

The tense moment abruptly ended when a rack of chocolate brown antlers was thrust between them.

“Enough, both of you.” Nora pushed her sons away from each other and gave an annoyed grunt of her own at the display. She threw them both aggravated looks, but settled her gaze on her youngest. “Did you hear her? That wasn’t an overreaction. That was the sound of a wound reopening, and you want to dismiss it as nonsense?”

“I, ah…” He backpedaled under her stern expression. “Still no reason to be _dramatic—_ ”

“Stop. Everyone had a terrible scare, but it’s over now and I won’t hear another word about it.” She wagged her hoof up into Jim’s face. “Shame on you. Don’t you dare make her feel bad. If you do, I’ll throw you out of this house so fast it will make your head spin.”

The sound of the sliding door opening and closing again shut all of their mouths tight, though they shared additional heated communication in the glares that were passed around between them. Melanie came through the doorway into the living room, saw the assembled reindeer standing stock still there, and laid her ears back with trepidation.

“I am—”

“Soaked to the bone and probably freezing,” Nora finished cheerily, and took Melanie’s arm in her own. “Ladies, come and help me get Melanie dried off here before she catches her death.”

Vincent’s sisters obeyed immediately. They brought up the rear as she started to lead the panda down the hallway toward the mudroom and the standing dryer therein even as Melanie protested the fuss they were making. There came the soft sound of a closing door, and the herd heaved a collective sigh.

“Well,” one of the cousins began evenly, and turned in the direction of the sitting room, “I think I could use another drink to go with dinner. Anyone else?”

Jim shot a final glare at Vincent and said, “Took the words right out of my mouth,” before following in that direction, as well.

The others dispersed slowly, some to the kitchen and the rest to the living room to await the call to sit down for dinner. Vincent didn’t move toward any particular area at first, still coming down from the tiff. It would be a little time before Melanie and the other ladies rejoined the group, and staying in this room was tanking his mood quickly. He turned down the hall instead and opened the door there that led to the basement play room.

Nora’s hobbies were situated at little stations around the room between places to sit and work on said hobbies. Here a table of needlepoint and thread, there a board of patchwork quilt. Built in bookcases held multitudes of books around the room as well, and squeezed along one wall was a small television and baskets of toys and games. This was a room that saw his mother’s presence more than any other in the house outside of her own bedroom.

He wasn’t even halfway down when his nostrils flared wide. He had to pause on the stairs for a minute to process it fully before he could force himself to continue. It hit him with the same suddenness that a jump-scare might, the sharp, sickly, piercing scent. It was no wonder the children didn’t want to come down here and be surrounded by something so repugnant. He tucked it away. There would be time to talk about it after dinner… if his mother was willing to discuss it with him at all, that is.

The hushed voices that were talking immediately fell silent upon hearing his hooves on the steps, and when he came into full view at the bottom the group of calves all stiffened with wary anticipation.

He spun a folding chair around and sat facing them. “You think you know what I’m going to say to you, but you don’t.”

Lips trembled. Tamara said softly, “Don’t yell.”

“I’m not going to yell.” Vincent crossed his arms over the chair back and set his head atop them. “You hurt my friend, and I want to just talk about why what you did wasn’t okay.”

“Isaac was the one who bit her.”

Isaac shrank at the declaration. Vincent ignored the movement for the most part, keeping his voice even and expression suitably neutral.

“I realize that. You want to be exempt from being in trouble because he was the straw that broke the camel’s back. But I saw how you all were treating her when I went outside, and that wasn’t okay, either.”

They shuffled their feet in visible discomfort, at least the ones who were old enough to fully understand what he was alluding to. The younger children may not have had a complete understanding, but they were taking their reactions from the older ones and seemed adequately chagrinned at Vincent’s words.

“Did she ask you if it was all right to pick you up?” he asked. “To hold you? To put her paws on you in any way?”

Tamara looked down and away. “Yes, Uncle.”

“When you told her to stop, you changed your mind, did she ignore you? Did she ever keep on when you said you were done?”

“No.”

“So then I’ll ask you, and I hope that you’ll be honest: did any of you do the same? Did any of you show her the same courtesy that she showed you?”

A few contemplative nose wiggles and ear droops swept through the little group as they considered his question.

“She’s a grown-up, though,” Tamara replied, as though that were an acceptable excuse.

It wasn’t.

“Why does that matter? Why do the basic rules of personal space not apply to her? You think just because she’s an adult she can’t be hurt? She can, and she was. She deserves an apology, at the very least.”

Vincent stood from the chair and spun it back against the wall. He stood at the base of the stairway and jerked his head in the direction of the first floor. “Now go wash up for dinner and think about how you’re going to make this better. You’re very smart, so I’m sure you can figure out something. I look forward to seeing what it is.”

They filed sullenly past him up the staircase. Vincent remained for a few seconds after the last of the calves had reached the top landing. He considered the rec room again and snorted hard as though that would remove the scent that was now clinging to his nostrils. He climbed the stairs also.

Melanie was back from the standing dryer by the time he reached the top landing and he had to fight hard to keep from laughing. Her fur had poofed out to a ridiculous degree and she looked like she’d stuck a fork into an electrical outlet. A black and white fuzzball. She glared at him hard as he gulped the laughter back, though his lips still twitched.

“It is not funny.”

He allowed himself a smile. “It’s a little bit funny, though.”

She attempted to smooth the fur on her forehead and cheeks down. “Making whole visit disaster.”

“Hardly. This is par for a big gathering like this.”

Melanie huffed and stopped trying to rearrange her fur. “You are being nice.”

“I’m not nice.” He tilted his head. “I’m being serious. A herd of mammals in a small space, attempting to navigate social niceties between their conflicting personalities. Add a few libations and it’s a powder keg.”

She averted her eyes away from his and chewed her lip. “Not exactly as I expected.”

“Well, what _did_ you expect?”

“I do not know… not to spark some explosion, maybe. Be a problem.” Melanie’s ear twitched and she batted at it automatically. “I do not ruin this holiday, do I?”

Vincent shook his head. “Oh no. There have been far worse past occurrences in this house, believe me.”

She looked down at her feet, the doubt etching wrinkles in her forehead. Vincent considered internally for a moment and rubbed at his neck before he continued.

“At Cornucopia the year I moved back to the city, I, ah… toppled the bar over.” Melanie snapped her head up and he nodded. “Oh, yes. All the bottles shattered, and the front broke straight down the middle. My father was furious, and unfit to be near for the entire rest of the night.”

“I… suppose not so bad, by comparison.” Melanie gave him a tight, awkward expression. “Do I meet…?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Her ears pressed flat. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. Been a long time now.” Platters of food started moving past them in the careful hooves of his sisters and mother. The many wafting scents intensified. The familiar rumbling sound of a hungry panda could be plainly heard and Vincent nodded in the direction of the dining room. “Come on. Let’s head in before we get caught in the rush.”

She nodded and followed behind him to the long table laden with the Cornucopia feast that they would all be enjoying today. The horn centerpiece had been removed, replaced instead with many platters of casseroles, vegetable medleys, quiches, and soufflés. Such a diverse assortment of dishes arranged neatly on festive runners and trivets all along the table. More than enough to be shared by all the mammals present. A small, shorter wooden table in the corner was set with colorful plastic plates and cups for the children.

Melanie stood in stunned silence for a few seconds, simply admiring the spread and the easy conversations that were being held around it as Vincent’s relatives filed in and took their seats, or poured themselves drinks, or set even more platters on the table. It was astonishing to her, but to them it seemed almost routine. Unremarkable. Expected. How many of these dinners had they seen in their lives?

“You’re right here with me, Mel.”

The sound of Vincent’s voice broke through the mild reverie and she moved down the line to the far side where he was standing. She stared at the little bowl of bamboo shoots on her plate blankly, then asked, “This is mine?”

“That’s right,” Vincent confirmed brightly, and pulled her chair out. When she made no move to sit down, he asked, “Is there something wrong with it?”

“No… no, not wrong.” The words rang false, hung limp and flimsy in the air as her eyes moved from plate to platter to bowl all the way down the line and everywhere else except her own place setting. _Twitch twitch twitch_ went her ears.

Vincent dropped his voice and murmured, “Listen, you can still eat whatever you want, though. You’re not limited to just this.”

“No?”

“Not at all. Try anything. Try everything. Have seconds and thirds.” The relief that washed over her face was obvious, and while it was reassuring, he couldn’t help but also be somewhat disturbed by it. “Did you think that was all you were being given to eat?”

“For a moment… yes.” Her voice was tiny, eyes steeped in apology when she turned to him again. “Was punishment for bad behavior, when I am small. Even less, or nothing at all.” Melanie looked for the briefest moment down at the bowl again, but averted her gaze from it again almost immediately. She took a deep breath and asked quietly, “Would you… put it on the plate instead? Maybe silly, but… I do not like how it looks. A bad familiar.”

“Done.”

And it was, without any further discussion. Once the offensive arrangement was removed, so was the cloud of uneasiness that had settled around them. She no longer looked like she dreaded her place at the table, and assumed her seat readily. Vincent pushed the chair in and took his own as the last of his family members filed in.

“Now, no pressure or anything,” he said as he sat, and cast her a smirk, “but I’m entertaining a personal prediction that you’ll put everyone at this table to shame. Especially Jim.”

She blinked. “How?”

“Sheer consumption.”

Melanie covered her mouth to stifle the surprised laugh that nearly escaped from it. “Well, I do come very hungry, so odds are good for you.”

“Then I’ll go ahead and double down.”

She grinned. “I will not disappoint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That spread doesn't stand a chance. XD


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time gives and time takes... and we must make the best of the time we are given.
> 
> <3

And she didn’t.

The bamboo shoots were demolished immediately, much to Nora’s delight although for Melanie that was more to clear room on her plate for other selections. The first plate that she filled was also destroyed, then the second. Every new dish was met with exuberant gushing, quiet requests for “a little more” and “another small bit please.” It didn’t go unnoticed, and earned a number of chuckles from around the table. Jim didn’t stand a chance and threw in the napkin once Melanie had started in on a third plate.

“Goodness, Vincent,” Nora said and pointed her fork at her son, “did you bring her to me starving?”

He put up his hooves. “I had nothing to do with this.”

“No other fault but mine,” Melanie assured her. She popped another piece of stuffed sweet potato in her mouth, taking a moment to savor it before continuing. “I would not have anything so good if I was home by myself tonight. Must try it all. And have recipes, please. Finally, I have time and suitable place to cook, I need foods to make.” There was an assorted variety of laughter around the table, and Melanie laid her ears back. “Do I say something funny?”

“Nora doesn’t share her recipes,” commented one of Vincent’s cousins.

“Or let anyone in her kitchen while she makes them,” Camille added.

Across from the big salad bowl. “Never written them down.”

Down at the far end. “And never will.”

“Oh.” Melanie picked at the casserole in her plate with her fork. “Well, that is sad thing. Seems like tradition one would want to share.”

A hush came over the table at the remark, surreptitious glances being cast at the head of the table. Nora brought her napkin to her mouth and then quirked a tiny smile.

“I’ll put together a few cards for whoever wants them.”

The uproar that followed could be heard in the street. A dozen voices all around Vincent and Melanie were vying with and talking over each other in a bid to be heard over each other.

“Oh my God, Mom, what??”

“Are you _serious_?”

“Just like that??”

“What happened to ‘over my dead body?’”

Nora folded her hooves calmly on the table. “I never said anything of the sort.”

“You did so!”

“I’m sure you’re quite mistaken. And even if you aren’t, you won’t fault me for holding on to some incentive for company. I wonder when the last time was I had a visit when I didn’t promise a hot meal.” Many ears drooped at her comment. Nora kept an even expression and took a casual sip from her water glass. “Maybe now some of you will cook for me for a change.”

There was a moment’s pause from the mild scolding, and even Melanie laid her ears low at the uncomfortable air that settled around the table. She attempted to take a cue from Vincent, but he wasn’t of much help. He looked neither apologetic nor humbled, but sat as he might have in his arm chair back in his office, with hooves steepled and eyes assessing the reactions and body language of his relatives, his critical gaze falling most often and most heavily on his mother. The panda chose to simply avert her own eyes back to her plate and wait for the tense atmosphere to pass.

Which it did in very short order. It wasn’t but a few more seconds before they all launched into a lively discussion of which recipes they most wanted to have the directions for, kitchen tips, cooking hacks to use for this type of dish, and so on. The uneasiness was overridden as Melanie listened intently, glad for the change in topic and what seemed a much more pleasant conversation.

The feast was winding down nicely amongst this delightful chit chat. Not much longer after Nora put her own napkin up on the table and leaned back in her chair.

“I think it’s time for desserts and coffee.” She cast her eyes around and said firmly, “Jim, dear, go put a pot on and take the trays out of the fridge.”

He blinked and pointed at himself. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Now?”

“Before Cornucopia ends would be ideal, yes.”

Jim pushed his chair out noisily and obeyed with thinly veiled reluctance. He snatched up his empty highball glass on his way and stalked to the kitchen. The others all began to consolidate dirty dishes and empty platters together to set on the nearby serving tables positioned against the wall to make room for the desserts and the coffee cups.

Melanie had just passed down her empty plate and cup when a shy tug at her sleeve begged her attention. She turned to find Tamara and Isaac standing awkwardly beside her chair.

“My brother wanted to say he’s sorry he hurt you,” Tamara said in a voice of the flimsiest confidence. She put a reassuring hoof on her brother’s shoulder and said firmly, “ _Sorry_ , Miss Melanie.”

“Sowwy, Miss Melanie,” he repeated softly, lips trembling like he was about to start wailing at any moment.

“Oh, thank you. I accept your very nice apology.” She smiled at him. “Do not be sad anymore. All is fine now.”

“Can you still be my friend?”

“Yes, we can be friends still.”

Tamara patted his head proudly and told Melanie, “Mom said we can have our tablet for a movie after dessert. Will you watch with us?”

She nodded. “I would like this very much.”

Their faces beamed and they all but skipped back to their little table to enjoy their dessert. The panda turned to the bull beside her with a frown. Vincent continued what appeared to be a nonchalant stare straight ahead.

“Hmm,” he said and brought his coffee cup up between his hooves with a small smile. “Well, wasn’t that a nice surprise?”

“You do not seem to have much surprise.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you do?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Vincent put the cup back down as plates of sweets started passing around the table. He took a generous number of cookies from one and handed it to her. “Seems a good way to wind the night down to me.”

Melanie took one for herself absently. “It does to me, also.”

She was about to continue the dish on its way when he mumbled a half-garbled objection at her. He swallowed hard and said again more clearly, “One isn’t going to be enough,” as he piled half a dozen of them on her plate for her. “Trust me.”

She laughed and passed it along at last. “Yes… I think I will.”

* * *

Coffee and dessert finished, the stuffed mammals filed out of the dining room and into the kitchen where they all proceeded to box up leftovers and clear countertops while Nora took requests for recipes to jot down on index cards. No one was more attentive than Melanie, who listened as Vincent’s mother rattled off ingredients and measurements and directions from memory while she wrote them down, asking the occasional clarifying questions as she went. They all traded and snapped photos to their phones and exulted again in the miracle that had befallen this Cornucopia, how fortunate they were to all have witnessed it in all its splendor and glory.

The table was cleared, Vincent and Melanie and the many other adults shuttling dirty dishes into the kitchen before heading back to the living room for final mingling before starting to head home. The cousins left first; they had a longer drive than the immediate family, as they lived outside of Zootopia. The house felt lighter upon their departure, though there was the heavy matter still settled at the base of Vincent’s mind.

When he made his way back to the kitchen at last, he didn’t enter immediately but stood at the doorway for a few moments just watching. Nora and Melanie’s backs were to him, heads bent together over the island countertop as they spoke low to each other. Soft laughter and smiles as Nora passed a few index cards to her. Melanie accepted them carefully, as though being handed a delicate flower, and bowed in the elder reindeer’s direction. The floor beneath Vincent’s feet creaked subtly as his weight shifted, and they both snapped their heads toward him. He gave a small wave and finally entered, feeling somewhat like an intruder in this place that he knew for the better part of his life.

“I think the calves are waiting to start that movie with you,” he said to Melanie, and smirked at the alarmed little squeak she made. She offered a small apology to Nora and hurried out of the kitchen to find the little herd she promised to spend the remainder of the visit with.

The kitchen was now empty save for Vincent and his mother attempting to hoof-wash the last of the plates that didn’t quite make it into the dishwasher. He stood awkwardly beside the sink for a few seconds until her ear flicked and she turned with an inquiring look in her eyes. He forced a smile.

“I’ll dry for you.”

“That’s what the drying rack is for.” Nora put the freshly rinsed bowl in said rack and turned the faucet off. She began to dry her hooves with a dish towel and returned an uneasy smile. “Why are you hovering?”

His smile thinned. “There’s… something I want to discuss with you and I’m trying to decide how best to broach the subject.”

She gave a light snort. “If you want to say something, just say it.”

“You’re giving your recipes away, and I wonder if you’ll tell me the reason why.”

Nora raised an eyebrow. “Because I felt like it was time to. That’s all.”

“I don’t think that’s the whole reason.”

“Honestly, Vincent, must you psychoanalyze everything?” She nodded toward the living room. “Enough now. Go sit, relax. There’s nothing else that needs be—”

“Am I the _only one_ you haven’t told?”

Her eyes went wide at the brusqueness of a voice now tinged with impatience. She attempted to deepen her smile. “Told… what?”

Vincent leaned against the counter, suddenly craving some semblance of support, no matter how small. “I didn’t notice right away. All the drinks, all the food really covered it up quite well. But the rec room downstairs is permeated with it. The children don’t know what that scent is, but I do.”

She took a step back, then another, a feeble retreat from words that were still well within range. He took a step closer in half-hearted pursuit that ended so far away. The look on her face was like that of a cornered animal caught frozen in terror and a heartbeat away from bolting.

He softened his voice. “You made so much food and didn’t eat any of it. Nothing but a little brown rice and lentils on your plate. No coffee, either. All fundamental tenets of a strict macrobiotic diet. A diet that often accompanies more traditional treatments… for cancer.” He pointed at her scarf. “Is it under that? The port?”

Nora pressed trembling lips together. She set the dishtowel aside and nodded. Just shifting the scarf an inch up revealed the plastic port that popped out from a bare patch of skin. Vincent felt his heart plummet into his stomach. He wanted to be wrong, knew he wasn’t but would have given anything he had to be told he was mistaken and why would he think such a thing?

Vincent took his glasses off with one hoof while the other pinched the bridge of his snout, eyes squinted shut so hard it hurt. “Oh, Mom…”

“Don’t say anything.” He snapped his eyes open again as she shook her head. “No, I haven’t told anyone yet, and I don’t want to today.”

He pointed his glasses at her. “This isn’t the kind of thing to keep to yourself.”

“Well, I know that,” Nora said sharply, voice bolstered the kind of way he often did whenever he thought he might be on the losing side of an argument. “Of course I know. I was going to… I don’t know, talk through things while you were all together here but this is… might be the last time I…” Her voice caught beneath a hard swallow, followed by a deep, steadying breath. It was many seconds before she resumed speaking, and when she did her voice had turned brittle, like it was about to shatter. “I don’t want to ruin this day with that kind of news. Let it stay nice, just as it is. There will be plenty of time to talk about it after the holidays are over.”

He set his glasses back on his snout and crossed his arms. “Will there?”

“Well, who knows that, really?” She waved her hoof over her head, an upward indication not so much of the ceiling but more what lay far, far beyond it. “Enough, at least.”

The kitchen filled with an awkward quiet made even more awkward against the continuing conversations in the living room. Vincent opened his mouth but no words came out; in the course of a few minutes Nora had shrunk to a fraction of the mammal he held in his mind’s eye every time he thought of her. All the intense and the firm and the passionate parts that she’d worn proudly all the years of her life were flaking off of her to reveal beneath something so fragile he thought he might just witness it crumble.

In a single step, the gap between them was closed and Nora folded herself between his arms. How time could change even the most fundamental of relationships, where he’d somehow find himself the one shushing and soothing trembling shoulders in the midst of the most fundamental of life’s lessons. He considered briefly to mention the role reversal, though he ultimately decided against it. There would be time for the doctor to have his say; at the moment, the son was the one that needed to be present.

The hug didn’t last very much longer. Nora backed away slowly, and reached up to cup his face gently with a sad kind of smile. Vincent covered her hooves with his own as his face mirrored her pained expression. He wished in desperation for the right words to say, though they were nowhere to be found. A dozen sentences died on his tongue before he managed to get one together long enough to make it out of his mouth.

“I want your salted caramel snickerdoodles recipe.”

Nora blinked, and then gave a tense burst of laughter. “Of course you do. That doesn’t surprise me in the least.” She fidgeted at her scarf and added, “Melanie asked for that one, also.”

“Well, she has excellent taste.”

“Agreed.” She paused and added, “She’s worried about you.”

Vincent made a scoffing sound. “She has _mostly_ excellent taste.”

“Stop it.” Nora angled her antlers at him in irritation and pressed forward as she wagged a scolding hoof up into his face. “Don’t do that. Your father always did that. Don’t brush it off like it’s ridiculous for someone to be worried about you.”

Even though his ears drooped under the reprimand, he puffed his fur in dissension. “I prefer not to be the subject of worry, is all. It’s a damaging frame of mind to be in.”

“And carrying your work around between your ears everywhere you go isn’t?”

He thrust his hooves in his pockets and muttered, “Now who’s psychoanalyzing everything?”

“Don’t sass your mother.” She crossed her arms. “I’m serious, Vincent. When someone cares, you don’t try to talk them out of it. Just be thankful.”

“I…” Her jaw clenched and forehead puckered in an expression more than prepared to meet with any argument he dared to make. He just let his shoulders slump and said, “I’ll try.”

“Good.” The tense expression was replaced with a more pleasant one as she gestured toward the living room. “I think everyone else is going to be heading off, so you’d best do the same. We’ll talk about…” Nora trailed off and motioned generally back and forth between them for a few seconds as words failed her. She just finished with, “Well, we’ll talk again soon.”

“I certainly hope so.”

Vincent felt her follow behind him as they left the kitchen at last back to the living room. The remainder of his immediate family were contentedly chatting, blissfully oblivious to what had recently transpired a room away, lounging even more comfortably than before. He gave a cursory look around but didn’t see either Melanie or the calves anywhere. The TV was off and the sounds of their play were also noticeably absent. It didn’t seem to bother the others, still enjoying each other’s company. He continued to the hallway and opened the door to the basement rec room once more. The lights were off, and there were no sounds from there either.

_Where did they go off to?_ he wondered as he started to wander back to the entrance. The dining room lights were on but empty. He turned to the dim sitting room and froze as a slow smile spread over his face.

The bright lights had been turned down to the lowest possible setting, a warm glow over the scene within. The nice coffee table was pushed out from the couch and a tablet was propped on it, playing what sounded like one of the old _Randolph the Red Nosed Reindeer_ movies on it. The pretty pillows were on the floor between the table and the legs of the sofa, and a couple of the calves had fallen asleep on them. The couch itself was occupied by Melanie and the rest of the younger children, all in varying states of slumber. The panda’s head was nodding as she dozed against the sofa arm, and the littlest of the calves were either laying on or against her. Isaac seemed particularly comfortable and had draped himself upside down over the back of the sofa and under Melanie’s arm. He was out cold, with his snout parted and snoring softly.

Vincent fished his phone from his pocket and snapped a quick picture. The lighting wasn’t the greatest, but he managed to get the whole scene neatly in frame. He gave it a fond kind of look before starting forward into the room. He wasn’t being terribly quiet as everyone had to wake up at this point anyway to get ready to leave. Melanie’s ears twitched and she managed to pry her sleepy eyes open. She blinked at him as her vision returned, and gave a hearty yawn.

“I do hate to disturb this Kodiak moment,” Vincent said with a gentle smile, “but it’s about time we get ready to leave.”

Melanie gave a drowsy nod and looked at the calves asleep around and on her. She smiled herself.

“I am little afraid to move.”

Vincent shrugged. “They have to get up, so how that happens is up to you. I can promise I won’t be at all gentle if you leave it to me.”

She shot him such an absurdly dirty look he couldn’t help but laugh, and that was enough to at least start the little herd stirring. They rolled and flopped off the couch onto the pillows and then each other on the floor before managing to get their feet beneath them to totter in sluggish clumsiness back to the living room and their parents. Vincent helped Melanie to her feet and pulled up the recent picture on his cell phone.

“A replacement for the one I sabotaged, if you want it,” he said. She put her paws to her mouth and looked up at him as she nodded enthusiastically. _Tap tap tap_ went his hoof over the screen and he smiled. “Sent. Now let’s get the farewells out of the way and head out.”

Whatever ill feelings his relatives may have still held over the course of the night’s events seemed to have dissipated by the time everyone had gathered their things to leave. Even Jim was, at the very least, tolerant of the tiny little leg hugs his sleepy children gave Melanie before shuffling after their mother out the door. An awkward few seconds passed before Vincent’s brother finally forced a thin smile to his face.

“Managed to make it through another one of these, huh?” he said and puffed out his chest as though that was some grand victory. He regarded Melanie with a mixed expression waffling back and forth between chagrin and guilt as he said, “Thanks for the gift of silence. And sorry about the roughhousing. Kids, you know?”

There was a sharp snort from Vincent behind her, which Melanie was keen to ignore completely. She returned the small smile and said, “I think I gain some better understanding, yes. I had fun time tonight.”

“Good.” He was at a loss whether to offer a hug or a pawshake and so ultimately did neither, offering instead an abbreviated wave. “Nice to meet you. Come around again.” He turned to his brother and put out his hoof. “Vince.”

“Jim.” They shook firmly. “Drive home safe.”

“You too.”

With a final parting nod, he stepped out the door. A few muffled footsteps into the dark over the snow-covered lawn and he was gone. The house was empty now except for two of them and Nora. Vincent put his fedora on as Melanie donned her coat and took her bag from the evening’s gracious hostess, then gave her a subtle bow.

“Thank you for having me join your holiday,” she said, her voice thick with welling gratitude.

“I’m so glad you came.” Nora moved very slowly forward with arms wide for a warm hug, which the panda was happy to accept. She held her at arm’s length as they parted. “Don’t be a stranger, dear.”

Melanie nodded. “I would love to visit again very much.”

“Excellent. I love having company.” She poked Vincent in the arm repeatedly as she pestered, “Hint hint hint hint.”

“Ow ow ow, alright, alright, message received.” He made a show of rubbing the spot she’d been jabbing at, and leaned down for a hug of his own. “Goodnight, Mother.”

“Goodnight, Vincent.” Nora kissed his cheek softly. She cradled his face between her hooves before they parted, then grasped them around herself as though she needed some protection from the chill that was coming in from outside. “Take care.”

A tiny flurry of snowflakes was falling outside as Melanie and Vincent made their way down the long walk out to the street and his waiting Lynxus parked there. In the muted silence of the world coated in a blanket of white, the finality in the sound the door made as it closed behind them made him pause. He looked back over his shoulder at the big house he once called home and felt something give way within. It had only been seconds, but the realization that the end of this holiday may have shut the door on this particular experience forever hit him like a sucker butt right to the skull. He hadn’t had a drop to drink all night but the well of memories he was gulping from instead as he stood there made his head reel.

“Vincent?”

He sucked a sharp, cold breath in through flared nostrils and tore his eyes away from all the shadows of the past that had started to play in front of him like a film of home movies. He made sure he was smiling before he started toward his car and the panda waiting for him there beside it.

“Sorry, Mel. I’m coming.”

The car warmed quickly as they drove off through the affluent neighborhood toward the Climate Wall. Melanie stayed quiet for much of the drive home, a content, heavy-lidded expression on her face. The small cards that Nora had given her were cradled between her paws, and in the fast passing beams of light from the overhead streetlamps Vincent caught her staring at them fondly from the corner of his eye.

“You’ll hurt your eyes trying to read those in the dark,” he said as she shuffled yet another one to the back.

“Not reading. Just looking a little.” Melanie traced over the looping cursive with her claw, and added softly, “It is so pretty. Like art.”

“She’s always had lovely handwriting.”

Melanie nodded, and gave him a playful smile. “Very unlike yours.”

Vincent chuckled. “Always knew I was meant to be a doctor, the chicken scratch I have.” He looked aside briefly, then back at the road. “I’d like copies of those, by the way.”

She held the cards out to him. “They are yours.”

“I, ah…” His eyes darted to them and then back with even more concentration on the non-existent traffic ahead. “Much as I’d appreciate that, she gave them to you.”

“But I cannot use them. What I need to know already she tells me herself, and I will never forget it. What is written here is small piece of your mother. I am happy you share her company with me tonight but that piece is not for me to keep. It is meant for you. You are family.”

Vincent was tempted to discuss the semantics of the term ‘family’ out of some leftover pettiness that he still harbored inside, but the morbid knowledge that was docked beside it dwarfed that desire down to nothing. With another brief glance he let one hoof leave the wheel, palm upturned. A feather light pressure pressed into it, and he curled his fist around it like a snare, grasping and selfish as a child would a cherished toy.

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

A kind of comfortable silence settling around them as they drove through the tunnel in the Climate Wall that connected Tundratown to the Rainforest District. It wouldn’t be much longer before reaching Melanie’s house, though it seemed from her deepening breaths and soft expression she’d probably start snoozing again much sooner than that. He could have let her, really, but there were bits and pieces from the night stuck in his brain and there was no way to get them out except for the usual way.

“We should do that more,” he blurted out. The timing was just right, and her ears and sleepy face turned to him with foggy confusion.

“Do what?”

“Eat together.” She blinked at him and he surged forward. “I go home after work and have dinner alone, and I imagine you probably do the same most nights, don’t you?”

Melanie nodded.

“Well, maybe once or twice a week we could just… have dinner together. Maybe make one of these recipes or… even just order takeout.”

It was hard to tell if the accompanying quiet that followed the suggestion was one of disinterest or consideration, so Vincent added, “Studies have shown communal meals improve mental health, build trust, and strengthen existing bonds. We could just catch up on what’s happened in our respective workspaces through the week, or… anything else, really. It could be nice.”

There was another prolonged silence and just when he was certain he’d gone and rambled rather stupidly at a sleeping mammal Melanie nodded at him again, her smile parting into an enormous, tongue-curling yawn. She hunkered against the seat a little more and closed her eyes as she murmured, “It would be very nice, yes… we should…”

“Good. I’m glad you think so, too.”

Vincent paused, considered the weightiness that had built up in his chest, now made even heavier from the pieces of cardstock in his hoof.

“So now you’ve gotten a taste of a big family gathering. A silly thing to covet, I’m sure you agree.” He exhaled what was meant to be a laugh, but there was no joy in it; only breath. “Well… I suppose there are some benefits. And, ah… truth is it’s been a long time since I’d reflected on them at all.”

He grimaced. That was putting it mildly, really. “Family” had been a dirty word for so long, he’d nearly forgotten there was anything pleasant to being part of it. Of shared memories, of old stories, of even just being known well enough to tease. And the fact that soon—how soon he had no way of knowing, but suddenly so near it hurt his heart—there would be a gaping hole in it made him wish he’d taken more time to notice that. 

“Did you notice it too? You must have, I’m sure.” A sharp breath made him backpedal away from the topic immediately. “Nevermind, nevermind. Nothing to talk about tonight, of course. But it still adds some importance to this evening and…” He sighed. “I would have missed it if not for you so… I suppose in the end there was something to be…”

“ _Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz…_ ”

He glanced at the passenger seat just from the corner of his eye and this time did manage a small laugh. Sound asleep, breaths deep enough he could hear them now over the road noise. Figured. But it was fine. Those were all the words he had left in him tonight, and even if they’d fallen on deaf ears just saying them out loud was enough for now.

The cabin remained quiet but for the sound of a light drizzle pelting against the windshield as he continued through the Rainforest District to her house. It didn’t stay that way the entire way there, though.

_Deet deet deet! Deet deet deet! Deet deet deet!_

The phone in his pocket jingled merrily—and loudly—the sound of his rather obnoxious reminder alert going off. Strange, though… he didn’t remember setting one. He hurried to squelch the noise out of courtesy for his dozing companion, and let the message be recited through the console screen on the dashboard.

<Stop! Very important!> the low, robotic voice said, though now that he heard the words, he could imagine the singsong accent that was somewhere at their heart. <Tell someone you are thankful for right now “Happy Cornucopia.”>

Vincent pulled up in front of her little cottage just as he breathed the short chuckle that he tried so hard to quell.

_Sneaky little panda._

He put the car in park and let the engine idle, glad for the pleasant silence and opportunity to enjoy the company for just a few minutes longer.

“Happy Cornucopia, Mel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Took more than a year but finally it's done. I hope you all enjoyed this little slice-of-life story. Til next time, thank you all for reading! <3


End file.
